Elizabeth Hill           
Communication Arts
11/19/2006
Cinderella Rewrite Story

As she arose from her small, twin sized bed decorated with raggedy, originally-white-now-brown sheets, she managed to stumble over her clothes strewn all across the floor to her mirror.   She gazed into the mirror, staring at her fair, clear complexion, lips that gently rested ever so symmetrically on her perfectly oval shaped face, her deep blue eyes staring back at her. She slowly took a seat in her makeshift chair of milk crates and books, grabbed her hand-me-down comb as she gently started to free her long, blonde wavy hair of knots. She rose to her so called sink, made of steel buckets and rain water; she grabbed a piece of cloth and began to wash the makeup, caked on her face, from the night before.
As Cinderella gently caressed the cloth to her face, she began to reminisce about last night’s events. To Cinderella, it was unreal. She recalled how her elegant blue silk dress clung to her curved body, how it swayed when she danced, how her hair magically glistened under her diamond tiara. She then thought about how right it had felt to have Prince John’s strong hands hold hers as they danced under the lustrous moon light. Cinderella was so grateful that her fairy godmother had come to take her away to that ball, for giving her such an opportunity, she would eternally be in debt, she thought. Her day dreaming soon ended, however, as her stepmother, Clarisse, was heard pounding on Cinderella’s door.

“Lazy girl! Rise from your bed! Breakfast has not been prepared. What are you good for Cinderella! You do nothing when you’re supposed to, you worthless wench,” Clarisse screamed as she continued to beat on Cinderella’s door.

“Yes stepmother,” Cinderella said in agreement with her stepmother. “I’m coming.”

She quickly changed into her dirty torn rags, wishing it was once again that gown she had worn the night before. Cinderella scurried down the spiral steps into the kitchen. She reached into the wooden cabinets to grab the stainless steel pots and pans that rest in a disorganized manner. Cinderella gently cracked the beige hen’s egg into the steaming hot pan. Immediately it bean to sizzle and crackle along with the thin slices of bacon in the next pot, both being heated on the same wooden stove that stood in the middle of the kitchen. Cinderella too caught up in the mesmerizing sounds of the bacon cracking and popping, the eggs sizzling and bubbling, to hear the knocker at the door pounding away.

“Cinderella! Are you going to answer that?” shouted her stepsister Virginia from the sitting room through the door.

“Yes, I’m sorry Ginny!” Cinderella replied as she zipped out of the kitchen into the living room, up to the door. She unfastened the chain and swung the door, only to be greeted by the prince and his servant. Cinderella was too caught up in the prince’s stature, his hansom brown, groomed locks that perfectly caressed his head.

He stood at the door, dressed in his charcoal woolen trench coat, his shiny leather shoes poking out underneath. His vibrant green eyes locked into hers, as his breathing subconsciously grew faster and faster. They both stood in silence as Virginia and Clarisse both shoved Cinderella away from the door onto the ground with force.

“WHEN THE PRINCE COMES TO THE DOOR, YOU BOW YOU  ... YOU... UGGHH!” Clarisse reprimanded as Cinderella slowly got up and brushed herself off.

Clarisse welcomed the prince into her home as she apologized for Cinderella’s rudeness. He pardoned Cinderella as Clarisse, Virginia, and Prince John both sat down on the adjacent couches, Clarisse and Virginia on one, Prince John on the other.

“What can I do for you, sire?” Clarisse asked timidly.

The prince rose out of his seat and pulled a glimmering glass slipper out of one of his pockets on his coat.

“Last night, at my royal ball, I met the most beautiful young lady. We danced under the moonlight… sipped on wine… engaged in deep conversation. Before I knew it, the clock struck midnight… and that was it… my love was gone. But she did leave this behind,” he said as he gently laid the slipper on the table. “Whomever this slipper fits, will be my wife and the princess of all the land,” he calmly added as Clarissa and Virginia both looked at each other with a devious sparkle in both their eyes.

Cinderella, knowing that slipper was hers, had butterflies fluttering in her stomach. She stared at the prince, then at her step family, hoping that for once, they did not ruin this for her.

Just as Cinderella was about to reach over and grab the shoe, Clarissa rose and said “Cinderella, what is that burning smell in the air?”

Just then Cinderella remembered that she had not turned off the stove and that the bacon and eggs must be burning! She then darted from her chair, into the kitchen only to be smacked in the face by the lingering smell of burnt breakfast. Cinderella opened up the oven and doused the flaming wood with buckets of ice cold water from the sink. She then grabbed the piping hot pans and set them outside in the tub of rain water to cool them off. She then began scrubbing the food out of the pans so they would not forever be apart of the utensils themselves.

Meanwhile, Virginia arose to the occasion and offered to try on the shoe. Prince John picked up the slipper and gently embraced her heel as he slid the shoe into place. Virginia and her mother were both shocked to find that the shoe fit perfectly! The prince rose and examined her foot.
“ It seems to suit your foot, thus, you are my future wife,” the prince said as he reached down to give Virginia a kiss.

Just as he did so, Cinderella flew through the kitchen door, greeted by such a sight. Her jaw flew to the ground as her eyes went blank and filled with tears.  She silently turned around back into the kitchen and grabbed the closest butcher knife. The pain inside her was unbearable she thought. It was too much to live with; she just could not go on anymore…that was it. Cinderella made the sign of the cross on her body just before she wedged the knife into her chest, forever ending her life.

But that was the way Cinderella wanted it. That was the way she wanted to go. She did not suffer much and she was out of all of her pain and misery, never to have to see the faces of those who betrayed her the most, her own family.